


Snowfall

by brass-gears (golden_circuitry)



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Ambiguous Teams, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Takes place on Coldfront, sniper's yearning like hell, spy's a huge dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:48:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27667021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golden_circuitry/pseuds/brass-gears
Summary: Sniper and Spy take a walk early in the morning.
Relationships: Sniper/Spy (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	Snowfall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [L_is_tired](https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_is_tired/gifts), [deerskull_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerskull_writes/gifts).



The best part about Coldfront, Sniper thinks, is how pretty everything is.

It’s an easy thing to say, after all. Even if he absolutely _detests_ the chill that follows him absolutely _everywhere_ , he’d be lying if the snowflakes silhouetted against a slow sunrise wasn’t damn near _stunning_.

Of course, that’s what he always says, every time Spy comes with him on his morning walk. It’d be improper form to admit he’s been staring at the spook out of the corner of his eye for the past three weeks worth of walks.

Spy tends to come with him every other week, and he’d be lying if he said the snow looked any less pretty on him.

Light snowflakes flutter down from above them, catching on Spy’s eyelashes and studding his lips, looking nothing short of _ethereal_ with the reddened sky.

And that’s where he makes his mistake, of course. He turns to look at Spy properly, already painfully aware of how hot his face feels, and how their shoulders brush together on every third step or so.

“Do you need something, bushman?”

And of _course_ Spy notices. It’s his job to be observant, after all, and Sniper’s flustered enough to admit to himself he doesn’t _completely_ hate the nickname bushman. 

At least not when Spy says it, and says it exactly like that. It feels _right_ , coming from his mouth. The title feels so personal, so painfully _intimate_ , with how close they are, and Sniper can’t help but wonder when Spy started calling him that.

“Earth to Sniper,” Spy starts, gently nudging Sniper’s shoulder, grinning as Sniper seems to refocus on him, “Did you need something?”

Sniper clears his throat, scratching at the back of his neck as he manages, “N-nah, mate, y’ just got something on your face.”

“Oh?” Spy replies, neutrally, as fluidly as water, very clearly waiting to see what Sniper would do about it.

“Yeah, mate, let me just..” Is the last phrase Sniper manages, before he gently cups Spy’s cheeks in his hands, and kisses him.


End file.
